Love Looks Not With the Eyes
by MuseOfFire527
Summary: Snoke is dead and the rebellion lies in tatters but a Force bond remains unbroken. Is there a purpose to it beyond the machinations of the power mad Supreme Leader? Can either Kylo Ren or Rey bring themselves to cross the chasm that divides them to find out? *Rating subject to change for later chapters*
1. Chapter 1

Before mother. Before father. Before love or hate.

Before he took his first breath in the waking world there was Snoke.

In that beginning the man who would one day bring the galaxy to its knees reached out to him with kindness, with something very much like love. In the beginning there was only the presence of a mind great and powerful and comforting. When he was little more than a toddler and the voices first began to come, in dreams he couldn't understand and could barely recall but that woke him screaming in the dead of night, it was always that presence he felt first. It cut through the dark and calmed his labored breathing, dried the tears. Not hard, not exactly, but strong, something that could support the fears and anger of a little boy who couldn't begin to understand the things at war inside him.

 _All is well, one day you will know what this all means_.

 _I will help you._

 _I understand this thing inside you._

 _Let me show you what can be done with it._

And what wonders could be done with it! Before there was a Dark Side or Light, before Jedi and Sith there was the simple joy of a child who could make his toys fly around the room with the barest thought. And when he was tired of that he found his nurse flew just as easily and she made much better noises! It might not have pleased his mother but he felt the pride of that other voice.

 _Yes it is for us to bend others to our desires_

 _Why else would we be given such gifts_

 _Power was meant to be wielded_

These were his first lessons in the Force. Little magics that made him laugh and helped him steal sweet cakes from the kitchen right under cook's nose. A whispered command that sent his long suffering nurse back to sleep so he could keep building with his blocks past bedtime. A child's notion of power.

But as he grew so did this thing inside him. Power began to mean something else, something darker that set him apart and marked him. That turmoil that came to him in dreams now came in daylight. He could not predict it. A rising tide of voices and overwhelming feelings he couldn't give names to then. Whispers that rose to shouts that rose to screams that filled his mind until he thought his skull would shatter. He could never make out the words or define the feelings as they ran through him like an endless storm ravaged ocean with no shore to break upon. It could last moments or hours, igniting into life like a candle flame and snuffed out just as quickly but always leaving him ravaged and empty as though it had taken all the life inside him to fuel itself.

The worst of it he managed to hide. And Snoke was still there to breathe cold calm into the chaos. Telling him to watch and listen but never give anything away. He must always be mindful of those around him with their judgements and jealousy. He must hide these things inside him, these storms, these voices, these feelings. Above all he must conceal his power.

 _I will show you how to master this thing you fight._

 _They cannot know. They would never understand._

 _They would fear you if they knew._

 _They would hate you if they knew._

But the boy was still Ben Solo then. A boy with unimaginable power crackling at his fingertips but still only a boy. A boy who looked at other children with their games and squabbles so easily resolved and felt such envy, such longing to be like them. He could do extraordinary things and there was always the promise of even more, even greater things if he could only master his weakness, tramp down his fears and his foolish, childish need for tenderness and love. But promises did not stop his yearning for a life less complicated and painful then the one he had been given.

It did not stop the wanting to tell. It did stop the wanting for someone to take it away. To take up this nameless burden from a little boy who wanted what all little boys wanted, to feel safe, to stand in the sun and laugh and leave nightmares in the dark.

He fought the wanting. He fought the longing to give his fear and pain to those who loved him. He fought that love, fought his need for it. He listened to the voice and quieted his breathing, closed his mind to everything else. He learned to listen as it spoke of greater purpose and higher calling and the great work he would do one day.

And he learned what to call the voice, learned to say the word with reverence and humility.

 _Not father._

 _Not friend._

 _Master._

His mother worried. When he was still child enough to adore her with the blind, infallible love of a son he wanted to take all the worry away and leave only the bright and golden smile he loved more than anything. When the voices were quiet and he did not feel the thoughts of his master he would lie awake sometimes trying to imagine ways to bring that smile to her face.

But when she turned her eyes on him too often he saw the pain he caused her. When he was still small sometimes she would catch him up in her arms and press her cheek against his and he would be flooded for a moment with such a fierce and all consuming love that it was almost painful. It burned away the paralyzing fear and roiling darkness and in those moments he wanted only to stay in her arms forever. It seemed then, in those fleeting seconds, that maybe there was another way to quiet the storm in his mind. The wanting was terrible then. So terrible he had to bite his lips sometimes till they bled to keep from screaming for her help.

But as he grew older the fear and the worry became an itching, burning agony he could never escape. Childish love began to change to something more bitter. When she looked at him all he saw was a longing that he find a way to control whatever was inside of him. That he master it so he could be the son she wanted, needed him to be. That he find some way to be anything but what he was. She never spoke of it, not out loud, but it lay there between them always. So love became resentment and resentment became anger.

 _You see what comes of loving._

 _You disappoint her._

 _You are not enough for her._

So he told her what he knew she wanted to hear. And she believed him because it was easier, because then she could turn back to her work and her endless wars. Her love was a capricious thing. Sincere but fleeting. Constant but always at a distance. Conditional love. Conditional on him, on whether he could be the son she needed him to be. In control, able to take care of himself because she had the galaxy to think of.

 _She carries the weight of worlds on her shoulders._

 _She cannot bear your pain as well._

 _She will not love you if you are weak._

 _She cannot understand._

His father did not worry. Worry was a feeling for people with responsibilities beyond their own desires. His father was a man who wanted a sidekick more than he wanted a son. Someone to set up the joke or more often provide the punchline. Someone to clap on the back after a con well played. He didn't know what to do with a boy who seldom smiled let alone laughed. He was a father always waving goodbye, on his way to the next great adventure.

And if Ben Solo ever thought to ask him to stay, to ask him to spend a day tramping through the woods in search of Teeks or asking for a lesson in flying the small speeder they kept for emergencies his master was always there to remind him how it would end.

 _He will never understand._

 _He does not want to understand._

 _Better he should go before you disappoint him even more._

And it _was_ better. Wasn't it? When he was alone Snoke could help him quiet the storm in his mind until all he heard was that calm, cold voice. No more screaming, no more yearning or fear or endless wanting. Just the voice and the promise that one day he might be strong enough to join his master.

When they sent him away he should have been relieved. He should have welcomed the escape from her sad, searching eyes and his half hearted farewells. Now he was the one saying goodbye. And if he felt grief what then? If he was so weak that he could not stamp down the tide of sorrow and loneliness that threatened to drown him then what good was he to anyone?

His father called it a great adventure. His mother told him there was no greater teacher in the universe than his uncle. They both left unspoken their hope that the last and greatest Jedi master might be able to succeed where they had failed, might be able to break their son from his sullen, mistrustful silences, make him normal.

 _It will be easier for them when you are gone._

 _They have each other._

 _They do not need you._

 _They do not want you._

It was on that long and lonely voyage to Ahch To that he first let the rage consume him. When there was no one to see him, no one to hide from, for the first time he let it flow through him. He let himself feel every moment of loneliness and fear and he knew that all the years he'd spent stamping them all down, building his walls, had meant nothing. Because none of it had gone away. Not really. He pummeled the walls of the ship till his fists bled. He screamed until his throat was on fire. He wept until he had no tears left and his body convulsed with dry, heaving sobs.

Weakling. Child. Pathetic. Unworthy.

That was when he knew that Snoke's thoughts had become his own. He did not need the voice of his master to remind him of his weaknesses, his inability to put aside foolish needs that did not serve the greater purpose he had been created for.

These are the thoughts that plague Kylo Ren the man now his master is dead. He cannot see where Snoke ends and he begins. He cannot tell which memories are his and which are tainted with the words of a man who never loved him, never cared, never wanted anything but access to the raging maelstrom of raw power that still blows like a hurricane through his first knight's veins.

How many of these memories are real? How many are colored by Snoke, by his subtle insinuations and gentle prodding? He doesn't know. And that is the source of the agony. He doesn't know anymore if the rage and loneliness was real or if it was all part of the plan that has brought him here. To this silent, empty throne room on a ship designed for death.

And could he bear it if he did? Could he survive the knowledge that a life spent sullenly in shadow, afraid and envious and so angry at everyone was built on nothing? Worse than nothing. Built on the very things he has fought from birth to overcome. Envy, desire, wanting. All those things Snoke labeled as weakness in his apprentice were, in the end, all that mattered to him.

So Kylo Ren sits on the throne of his dead master staring into an empty room and waits. He think this time when the voices come, when the maelstrom rises again to catch him and fill his mind with chaos that he might let it take him. Perhaps this time he will give himself wholly to that ocean of pain and fear and longing and let it take him where it would.

Perhaps she would be on the other side. If he survived the storm perhaps she would be waiting at the end. And this time, if he offered his hand, she would take it.


	2. Chapter 2

It turned out you couldn't craft a lightsaber with only half a Kyber Crystal. At least that was the conclusion Rey had come to. Though she knew the crystals were traditionally mined by apprentices she couldn't imagine it mattered. The Jedi texts spread before said nothing about the size or quality of the crystal and yet still the Kriffing thing would not turn on!

She had designed her lightsaber based on the first weapon she had taught herself to use and still favored. The staff was meant to ignite from both ends through a trigger in the center and could be adjusted to act as the more traditional laser sword most Jedi used depending on her need. Of course none of that mattered in the slightest since she couldn't get it to as much as spark.

She'd been crouched for hours with the texts splayed out on the floor of her hut hunting for something, anything to explain what the problem might be. She was positive she'd followed every direction in the ancient blueprint in the oldest of the books down to the letter, not a single circuit looked out of place but still the hilt sat cold in her hand not even the faintest twinge of power evident.

Her back ached. It was raining again, as it did so often here. It had lost some of the charm now that she'd been living with it for several weeks. The air was just always so damp! She could never seem to get dry. No matter how long she hung her clothes by the fire the damp chill clung to everything.

She let her mind drift with longing to the Rebellion's new base on Carlac where a newly constructed temperature controlled outpost kept everything at a delightfully dry seventy degrees morning, noon, and night. It was a beautiful planet in the outer rim territories covered in a blanket of perpetual snow, something else Rey had never seen before. Its people, the Ming Po, had like so many others, fallen victim to the villainy of the Empire years ago in the Clone Wars and they welcomed the nearly decimated rebellion with open arms offering a rare chance for rest and recuperation on their quiet and largely forgotten home world.

She smiled recalling the afternoon Poe had introduced her and Finn to the "joys" of snowball fights. He'd had the advantage initially but it wasn't long before he learned that Force directed snowballs were very difficult to avoid. That was the day she'd seen Finn holding Rose's hand for the first time. Though she didn't raise her head to meet his eyes Rey saw the smile spread across her face. It grew wider when he dropped a gentle kiss across her knuckles. Of course Rose had broken the spell by swooping down to grab a handful of snow which she promptly dumped down Finn's back spurring them all on to send a fresh rain of snowballs at him.

That had been a very good day.

Luke would have enjoyed that story, she thought. She couldn't pretend to have known him well but it seemed the kind of thing he would have done given the chance, use the Force for something as delightful and frivolous as a snowball fight. Well, maybe when he was her age.

It was difficult to be there on Ahch To without him. Though she wasn't sleeping in the hut where he'd lived she felt him everywhere, his presence was practically carved into the earth, a part of the perpetual rain. And though this trip had felt necessary, vital even, it was more difficult still to be away from her friends.  
After a lifetime spent with only herself for company she'd had no concept of loneliness, had not even known she was lonely. It was just her life. When you opened yourself to companionship, to friendship, to love you opened yourself to the pain that came when they were taken away. And there was pain now. There was pain in Luke's death. Pain in leaving Finn and Poe and Rose behind when it felt like they'd only just found each other. How was that possible? One moment you had no idea someone existed in the universe, the next you couldn't imagine your life without them in it.

There was also a deeper pain that sat in her stomach like a cold stone. It could not be shifted or assuaged so matter how she tried to erase it from her mind. It was a dull, constant ache almost like the hunger that had always gnawed inside her on Jakku. But this wasn't something that could be cured by a good dinner.  
She hefted the crystal again, feeling its weight in her palm. It hummed almost imperceptibly in her hand, generating just the tiniest bit of warmth. It was beautiful. Glinting like a precious jewel in the late afternoon sun. No, more like the light on the ocean as the sun rose. The jagged edges where it had cracked and almost shattered did nothing to diminish it. It should have been _enough_. There were no rules about the size of the crystal or whether it had to be whole or new so why wouldn't it work?

She could feel the frustration building. Feel the loneliness and disappointment rising in her and she gripped the crystal hard longing to throw it at the wall and watch it shatter into a million pieces.

That was what he would do.

No. No she would not do that. She would not think of him. To think of him was to think of the bond and if she thought about the bond she would think about opening it and that she refused, absolutely refused to do. He had made his choice. And she had made hers.

She would not think of that. Or him. Or the look on his face as the door to the ship had closed. Or the sound of his breath in the aftermath of battle, when he'd looked at her like she was the only person in the universe. Or the tears in his eyes. Or the way he'd said please. What it had cost him so say it.

 _Join me._

 _Please._

Like she was his last hope. She'd felt it through the bond. A separateness so very much like her own but so much deeper. She'd felt him fighting to keep it down, to keep himself from needing the connection they had. It went against everything he knew to reach out his hand to her, to say please. But still he'd done it.

 _Please._

She saw Ben Solo then. Just for a moment she saw the man on the bridge who had almost taken his father's hand, had almost stepped back into the light. She'd reached out to grasp his hand and then it vanished and his face was frozen again into a mask even more frightening than the one he wore into battle. Then she saw what this new world he wanted to build might look like. It might be a universe without war or violence or even pain but it would also be a universe devoid of any semblance of happiness or connection or love. Things she knew she could not live without, not anymore.

She didn't want to live in a universe like that.

It was so much harder to keep from thinking of him here when she had only herself for company. She'd find herself wondering if he had watched the sun set from the same spot she did on those rare nights when the rain stopped. Had Luke subjected him to that same traumatizing incident with the Thala-siren. She still couldn't bring herself to drink that milk.

Remembering Luke's hard, "got a problem with this?" stare as he'd sprayed green milk directly into his mouth pulled her from the treacherous path she'd let her mind wander down. She could almost hear him grumbling.

 _While you're worrying about sunsets there's a lightsaber lying on the ground without power. Get your head on straight. And there is nothing wrong with that milk!_

Get her head on straight indeed. She gave herself a shake and stood up to stretch. She'd go for a run and clear her mind. Silent and still meditation might work for some but she needed to move. She grabbed her cloak from the heap of clothes on the bed just as a loud bang reverberated through the hut.

Her minder was back. She didn't need to even look out the window to know a white robed Lenai was once again checking the structural integrity of the hut to ensure she hadn't destroyed any more precious sacred landmarks.

Stifling a laugh she poked her head out of the hole in the wall that passed for a window and looked down at the little froglike woman who was muttering under her breath, probably lamenting having gotten the short straw in the "babysitting the so called padawan" drawing.

"Hello!"

The Lanai let out a shriek of surprise, lost her footing and landed in a heap punctuated by a very painful sounding thwump as her staff connected with her head.

"Oh I'm so sorry!"

Rey vaulted out the window and crouched beside the woman who had both hands pressed to her head and was now making a very unhappy sounding hissing noise. Without thinking Rey reached out her own hand and placed it over the Lenai's then reached with her mind. She could feel the pain and dizziness almost like it was in her own head. It was still disorienting to open herself to a connection like that. But her instinct was a good one. Without thinking she sent a comforting wave of gentle warmth toward the woman and in almost the same instant she felt the pain lessen. Encouraged she reached further, sending tendrils of healing energy to ease the swelling bruise that was already rising. She felt the pain begin to crumble like dry earth under her hand and with another breath of that same delightful warmth it vanished.

The Lenai had remained very still from the first moment Rey had touched her. Not out of fear. There was almost a sense of reverence coming through the connection and something else she couldn't quite identify. Familiarity? She looked up at Rey and said something in her own language that was very clearly thank you. Rey helped her to her feet and handed her the staff.

"The building's fine I promise!" she said and banged on the wall a few times with her hand for emphasis. The Lenai nodded emphatically and let out a grunting laugh pantomiming hitting the wall herself with her staff.

"Yes I know." Rey smiled back "I will not break a single, solitary stone I swear."

The Lenai chuckled again and reached to take Rey's hand again. Rey knelt down beside her and let the little woman turn her hand over and over as if she was trying to find the source of the power that had healed her. She murmured to herself and patted Rey's hand then her own forehead. Then she reached down and raised the hem of her dress and stuck out one of her birdlike feet. Rey could see a small scar snaking up the ankle, almost invisible. It had clearly been a deep cut but it had healed cleanly. The Lenai put her hand on the scar and patted it again.

"Did someone heal this?" Rey asked her as she touched the scar gently. "Someone like me?"

The Lenai nodded and chuckled again then launched into an incomprehensible and clearly frequently retold description of the accident and subsequent healing of her leg. Rey listened attentively and watched as the Lenai pantomimed what looked like a very dramatic fall from a cliff and a life threatening injury that had, if her panting and gasping was to be believed, brought her to the very brink of death.

"That was not at all what happened."

Rey was on her feet in the space of a heartbeat. She waited for the sound of a saber igniting, for the heat of his anger to wash over her. But it did not come. She could not bring herself to turn around, to look at the mask or worse, the scar.

"She tripped over a rock while she and her sisters were gathering eggs. Their legs are weaker than ours. I found her when the others went for help."

The Lenai woman let out a surprised but obviously very happy exclamation and waddled on her birdlike legs past Rey to the person standing behind her.  
When she did finally bring herself to turn around he was kneeling on the ground as she had been a moment before and embracing the Lenai. The caretaker was holding his face fondly between her hands. She patted his cheek gently and made another hissing noise as she traced the scar that ran down his face with one stubby finger.

"It is alright. It has healed. Like you." He told her. She clucked at him in matronly disapproval and shook a finger at him obviously not believing a word. He said something in her language that made her let out another croaking laugh and pat his cheek again. Then she sighed, knelt to retrieve her staff and with a froggy smile for Rey stomped off into the gathering darkness.

"She is an excellent cook. You will have something very nice for dinner I think." he said.

"Oh!" was all she could manage.

They stared at each other in silence. It was such a foreign feeling to not be overwhelmed by fear or that blinding rage, the need to hurt him. She had not realized how much she had longed to see him again. Just to know that he was alright. Like the loneliness that haunted her she had not known how much she had wanted him with her until he was here.

And he was very much _here_. Swathed in black robes as always but somehow not the towering figure of menace from her nightmares. His hair was longer. He was thinner, diminished. So tall but staring at the ground with hooded eyes that were shadowed with dark circles. There was something in his hand.

"I brought you this."

It was the other half of the Kyber crystal. Beautiful and broken as hers was. He held it out to her and she could see his hand trembling in its glow. Without hesitation, without a single second of worry for what it would mean or how it would end she reached out. She wrapped her fingers around his and felt the warmth of the crystal flare up.

She felt him then, felt his mind begin to open to her, and felt him reach out. Tentative and gentle, none of the cold implacability of his first attempts at probing her mind. No now he was asking her to come to him. Inviting her to see whatever lay beyond those lost eyes.

The desperate longing radiated off him like blasts of heat across a desert. She closed her eyes against the sorrow and the blinding need that twined and snaked around him, dark plumes of smoke around his gaunt, pale face. So much darkness. But not darkness fed and nurtured for years by Snoke. This was the desperate, wretched loneliness of a child with no one else to turn to. A boy barely more than a babe without the words to say what was wrong. A little boy sent away for something he'd never asked for. A young man who woke one night to find someone he loved ready to murder him for his power. A man grown who thought he had finally, finally found peace and purpose only to have it ripped away.

"I want you to understand." he whispered.

"I know."

She held his hand as the night closed in around them and this time they were not separated by light years. This time no one would come to shatter the bond. This time she would not let go.


End file.
